


Black Eyes & Red Leather - Part 4

by Winchester_with_Wings



Series: Black Eyes & Red Leather - Flash/SPN Crossover [4]
Category: DCU, Supernatural, The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crossover, DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flash/Supernatural, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Murder, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Series, Shameless Smut, Smut, demon, demon!reader, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request by @none-of-this-makes-any-sense : Okay so could you do a crossover where the reader is Barry’s gf who is really shy but then gets possessed by a demon… [I have redacted the rest of the request cuz of spoilers hehe]</p><p>Barry Allen's girlfriend (aka you) gets possessed by a demon and must look to the Winchester Brothers for help.</p><p>Part 4 Summary: The trip to a small town in Nebraska proves to be informative yet confusing, and maybe a little dangerous. You don’t even think to consider it supernatural…which is probably a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Eyes & Red Leather - Part 4

**Author's Note:**

> I hope ya’ll like it and feedback is appreciated!! I used Mazikeen from Lucifer as the demon inspiration.

[**SERIES MASTERLIST**](http://winchester-with-wings.tumblr.com/post/143345577726/black-eyes-red-leather-series-masterlist) on Tumblr :)

* * *

  


* * *

Upon arrival at the smalltown Nebraska police department, you begrudgingly admit to yourself that Captain Singh was right to send you. Having digital copies of the files wouldn’t have worked, not with the numerous files and boxes of evidence. Since David is just doing a favor for the Police Chief here, the evidence can’t leave; and it’s the evidence that proves the most convincing.

The Police Chief, a silver-haired man in his fifties, seems concerned and secretive about your visit. He sets you up with an office in the back where you spend a whole day going over every file, report, and piece of evidence. It’s busy work you’re actually used to and it’s also as fascinating as the Central City metahuman cases.

The photographs are difficult to look at; gory details telling horror stories of death and pain. From every scene there’s a small bag of a yellow substance. They’re labeled “sulfur” and you’re pretty sure that even through the plastic, you can smell the rotten egg scent. The witness reports are strange but they all line up as if there’s one common denominator, one common villain.

And then there’s the videos. You save those for tomorrow.

* * *

 

You don’t tell Barry any details when you call him that night, eating fast food in a crappy motel room.

“Are you safe? Did the Captain put you in a dangerous situation? You can tell me that at least, right?”

“I’m fine Baby. Perfectly safe,” you tell the white lie because you’re honestly a little jumpy after spending the day reading an unsolved case of missing persons and a double homicide. “When I’m not in my luxurious motel room, I’m at police station. Safe and sound.” Barry sighs with relief and then the two of you just sit in silence for a moment. You’re both eating dinner.

“What are you eating for dinner?” he asks.

“A greasy cheeseburger,” you grumble. “You?”

“Chinese food,” he responds. You smile.

“Double orders? Extra everything?” you guess.

“Maybe,” Barry chuckles. “But of course, I’ll be hungry in twenty minutes. Might have to scavenge for food from your fridge.”

“You’re at my place?”

“Mmhm. The pillows smell like you,” Barry murmurs sweetly. You smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Aww, you’re adorable,” you giggle. “So will my fridge be empty by the time I get home?”

“I promise I’ll refill it,” Barry swears, laughing. “When will you be home again?” He keeps forgetting. You tell him sometime on Friday. “Good.” Another moment of silence. “I miss you, Y/N. I don’t like being apart,” he says in low voice.

“I miss you too, Barr. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies. The two of you talk for a few more minutes before deciding to hang up and go to bed. “Sweet dreams, Babe.”

“Good night, Barry, sleep tight,” you smile warmly.

 

* * *

 

You start your day organizing your notes and then set up the old black laptop lent to you by the Police Chief. You start watching the surveillance videos, reading the reports that accompany them.

Most of the scenes show black smoke travelling through the shadows, down hallways and under doors. It forces itself into the victim’s bodies. The whole demeanor of the victim changes as if the smoke has altered their mind.

You recall a case where a metahuman could turn himself into a toxic gas, perhaps this is something similar?

In some of the videos, that’s the last time they’re ever seen. They’ve yet to be found. And then there’s one video that shows a victim’s last moments.

They’re stealing something when a security guard shows up. You recognize the guard as one of the murder victims. The thief is the other deceased victim. You watch it and you’re rattled, though the video has no sound.

The person being controlled by the black smoke charges at the security guard. He shoots and it’s only the muzzle flashes that tell you that because the mind-controlled person doesn’t go down. They stop though and hold up an open hand. The security guard is hurled across the room without any physical contact by their assailant. Then he’s lifted off the ground, pressed to the wall, his feet kicking and his hands trying to reach for his throat. He looks like he’s choking.

You lean back in your chair, completely baffled. What is this black smoke?! Gaseous Darth Vader?

The security guard suffocates. The other victim goes back to what they’re doing, completely unaffected by their bleeding wounds. They find whatever they’re looking for–a piece of paper–and then burn it.

The end of the video shows the victim noticing the security camera for the first time. They just smile and, with pitch black eyes, they wink at the camera. The smoke expels itself from the victim’s body and the victim falls to the ground dead.

The notes of the officers first on the scene say they had assumed it to be a theft gone wrong but the video evidence proved it to be so much more…but what?

A summary of all evidence and files adds up to a big, fat, load of nothing.

You can’t definitively say whether this is a metahuman or not. Sure, the black smoke is unusual but what is the source? Where does it come from? Who’s controlling it or who turns into it? You don’t have those sort of answers. Even if you were to say it’s a metahuman, how could they be here when the particle accelerator explosion was the only way metahumans were created? They’d have to have been in Central City when the event happened.

You decide to look into that before reporting to Singh. It takes a while for the police chief to get you the access you need to research all the civilians in the case. Going through whatever readily-available-without-a-warrant information (i.e. family relations, jobs, education, prior addresses, any financial records that have been pulled) takes up the rest of the day and you come up with nothing.

 

* * *

 

Exasperated, you call Singh at 6 that night. After exchanging pleasantries, you get into a short and disappointing report.

“It’s weird, David. No wonder the police chief called you.” You kick off your shoes and struggle to take off your coat while on the phone. “Whatever is going on here is…unnatural. It could be a metahuman, but I have no way of explaining why a metahuman would be out here. Maybe someone else more qualified should look at this?” you sigh, dejected and falling back to lay on your bed.

“Have you already told Allen about the case?” Singh asks.

“No,” you say, frowning. “I did just as you asked. But Barry is my boyfriend, I don’t like keeping secrets from him. Why is this a secret?”

“I don’t want to start some trend where Central City becomes the go-to consultant for weird, unexplained, or stale cases that turn out to be wild goose chases.” You’re inclined to agree with him based on how these last two days have been. But considering how violent this case has been and how at a loss the police department is here, maybe CCPD are the only ones who can help.

“I understand, Captain. But I think this one is definitely worth looking into. Especially since it looks like Central City is their next stop.” That clue comes from some blurry pictures of one of the missing persons at a train station.

“Alright, we’ll see what we can do. I’ll put in a formal request for the files.” The anxiety tossing around in your chest about being in an unfamiliar place, all alone, looking into a dangerous crime, settles down with the relief that soon you’ll be home with Barry. “You just chill out tonight, go get a drink or something, and then catch that morning flight we scheduled for you tomorrow.”

“Ok, will do.” You hang up the phone.

You stare at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, contemplating calling or texting Barry to tell him you’re coming home. You hadn’t told him when your flight was on Friday. At the time, there was still a chance that the trip might’ve been extended but now you get to go home and have the weekend with him. And since he doesn’t know what time your flight is, you figure you can surprise him at home with a nice dinner and some sweet _dessert._

You imagine various scenarios of what you could do for Barry but you have to admit that you’re not the most adventurous in the bedroom. Barry is the only man you’ve ever been with and you’d be perfectly happy if he’s the only one. But you’re still a little nervous to do something you’ve never done before. You’ve never done more than kiss at work, for pete’s sake! And wasn’t one of the perks of workplace romances supposed to be sex at work?

Maybe when you get back to Central City you should try some new things? Maybe you should start tonight? Take David’s advice and go get a drink.

You change into a pair of fresh clothes: tight, faded jeans and a green shirt. You touch up your hair and make-up to boost your nerves and confidence. You’re obviously not looking to meet or hook up with any guys but you do want to look the part of someone who goes out on the town…even if it’s a small, country town where the closest bar hosts square dancing every Thursday night.

Except the bar you happen upon is relatively normal with maybe an extra dose of bikers. And they’re surprisingly polite! It’s the frat boys and blue collar men that make you feel uncomfortable right away.

You move the ring that Barry gave you for your birthday from your right hand to your left ring finger. You’re content to sit at the bar and people watch, chatting sparingly and politely with men who offer to buy you a drink. Some of them notice the ruby ring on your finger and bow out when you tell them you’re married. Some of the more intoxicated men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, insisting a girl away from home should have some fun.

One of them is a burly man in Levis with suspenders stretching across a plaid shirt. He smells like sweat and cow manure. Even though you’ve shyly smiled at everyone talking to you tonight, you frown at this man, who introduces himself as Doug. He touches your leg and invades your personal space, leaning in like he’s got a secret to tell but you know it’s going to be something vulgar.

The look on your face is a disgusted grimace but he doesn’t notice or care. There’s a couple of patrons in the bar who do notice but they do nothing.

But then, suddenly you feel the hand lifted from your knee and the man protests, blowing putrid beer-scented breath in your face. His fingers are being squeezed and bent backwards as his arm is bent like a chicken wing.

“How about you leave my girl here alone? Unless you want me to break your fingers…and maybe your arm?” The woman’s voice is a calm but dangerous hiss. There’s maybe a hint of amusement in her threat too.

Her grip on the man’s hand has forced him to take a few steps back. The ease in which she restrains him is impressive given his size and you tell yourself that maybe you should learn that move.

“What do you say, Big Boy?” she says with a sultry tone.

The wincing man strains to nod, whimpering, “Okay, okay, just let me go.” And she does, allowing him to retreat without even a look over her shoulder.

She stands before you, with a glowing, light brown skin tone, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She’s wearing black leather pants and a long sleeved, leather crop top that twists in her cleavage and stops right under her breasts. It’s like a leather jacket without the waist. It’s a sexy outfit that you could never pull off, because it’s not about having the body for it, which you might, it’s about having the confidence…the balls to wear it in public.

And this woman clearly does. She appears to enjoy the attention she’s gained from making a scene but she doesn’t look at anyone but you.

“How you doin, Darlin’?” she asks, her red-stained lips pushing into a pout. She approaches the barstool next to you. “Mind if I sit down?” You nod. The woman waves her hand at the bartender who puts a drink in front of her. “Us girls gotta stick together.” She picks up the olive on a toothpick from her drink. “Travel in packs to deter the predators. Don’t ya think?” She takes the olive off the toothpick using her tongue, which seems to tease a businessman at the end of the bar. You envy her confidence. She doesn’t even care that the man just ordered her another drink; her attention is on you.

“Um…yeah, definitely,” you answer with a dry mouth. You take a sip of your drink. “Oh, and thanks for what you did. He wasn’t taking no for an answer,” you grumble. The woman flashes a smile at you. “I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself. She gently shakes your hand.

“Hi Y/N,” her voice is slightly sinister but you’re starting to think that’s just the way she talks. “Nice to meet you. I’m Roxy.” She smiles at you again and you think it’s just a trick of the bar’s light or your paranoid imagination…but for a split second, you think her brown eyes flicker pitch black.


End file.
